One Line
by Edgechick816
Summary: This world all gone to war, all I need is you tonight. MacStella, Post The Thing About Heroes 4x10.


Title: One Line

Author: Rachel

Category: CSI: NY

Pairing: Mac/Stella

Disclaimer: Please. Me? Own anything? Hardly. It all belongs to Anthony Zuiker. I'm just playing.

Distribution: Ask please

Rating: PG13

Spoilers: Post- The Thing About Heroes (4x10).

Notes: Thanks Fruitbat00 for the beta. :)

Summary: _This world all gone to war, all I need is you tonight_

Feedback: Is loved and much appreciated :)

_Do you remember the first kiss?_

_Stars shooting across the sky._

_To come to such a place as this, _

_you never left my mind  
_

_I'm watching from the wall, _

_as in the streets we fight _

_This world all gone to war, _

_all I need is you tonight...  
_

His hands were shaking.

He remembered the last time they shook, after he got the call about Claire: The air left him, his knees gave out and he was on the floor silently crying before he had even processed what had happened, and his hands shook so badly that he dropped the phone. But that was years ago on a day so dark it marred his soul. Today...today he was forced to relive the pain of his past, childhood, pain that was so compounded into his damaged past that it was probably the thing that set him off in the first place; he never wanted to feel that way again, that scared, that helpless. He never wanted to be afraid to pull the trigger.

But now, as he felt his hands shaking inside his pockets, he had never felt so helpless in his life. He couldn't hold a gun, and he probably couldn't even manage the tea Stella was making for him. He curled his hands into fists, desperately trying to still the motion. He thought to blame it on the drugs still lingering in his system, or being bound to a chair and threatened, but really it wasn't either. Yes, the drugs had some effect, and yes he had what was, at the very least, an unusually stressful week, but neither of those were the reason his hands wouldn't stop shaking.

The reason for that was standing her kitchen, making him herbal tea.

They hadn't talked about any of it yet, and he could see she had so many questions: about his past, about how he was feeling, about why he waited to tell her. She was hurt, but she was holding back, whether it was more to keep from upsetting him or herself he couldn't say, but the result was these burst of nervous, nurturing energy that made it completely impossible for her to sit still for more than two minutes, and yes he'd counted.

He really wished she would sit because then maybe his hands would stop shaking, and he could start trying to figure out what this all meant. So far, all he had done was go back to the office, fill out a mountain of paperwork and give statements until he reached his emotional end. At which point, Stella had pulled him away, took him to her car where his change of sweats from his locker had been waiting for him, and taken him home with her. Then he taken what must have been the longest shower in the history of man where he had refused to think about anything and only to come out to find Stella in the process of making him tea.

She had changed out of her work clothes into comfy flannel bottoms and a well worn t-shirt he was almost sure used to be his. Massive curls tied back in a ponytail as she fussed around the kitchen and told him to have a seat on the couch. Only now was he beginning to process everything that had happened as she brought out two steaming mugs and sets them on the table.

"Careful, it's hot."

He only nodded in response, taking his hands out of his pocket and lacing them together, not daring to pick up the mug. He stared down into for the longest time before speaking.

"Stella..." He looked up from his mug to find her full focus was on him. And he knew, he knew before he had even thought about it, he knew from the moment that Stella put the pieces together for him. Andy had looked at his life with methodical detail, and he had chosen her; over Danny, over Flack, over Peyton, his own girlfriend at the time. Andy had examined all of them and even though he attacked them as a team, as a family, he had decided that Stella was the way to get to him; that Stella was the one he cared the most about. It was the kind of thing he had always worried about when Claire was alive; that she would be used in some kind of plot against him.

But Stella was... strong, and stable and independent and not his wife, and he didn't think this was the kind of thing he would have to worry about with her. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized how wrong that was: she was there for him _always_, she transited through Claire, through his grief, through Peyton. She was his constant, she meant more to him than words could express, and he cared for her more than he ever knew. Just the idea of someone using that relationship, that caring, that _love_ he had for her, against him, against _them_ was nearly unspeakable. That was really the point of it: love, that was the thing that kept tripping him up, that's what made his hands shake, that was the feeling he never quite found with Peyton, the reason Andy knew who to go after.

"He chose you," he said, it was heavy in the air and Stella felt the weight immediately. Her eyes dropped from his and it was her turn to take a long look at her tea. She felt so stupid; she knew there was something up with Drew... or Andy, she guessed. God, he was barely even honest about his name. He was trying too hard to be a part of her life, doing too much to get in her good graces. She knew she could never trust him, and she should have listened to her instincts more closely. After Frankie, she thought she should give herself a chance, that maybe she was just gun shy, to used a badly placed phrase. But no, this guy turns out to be as much of a psycho as the last, and this time she didn't just put her own life in danger, she'd risked Mac's.

He should hate her for putting him in that situation, and along with thousands of questions and concerns bubbling beneath the surface, were about a hundred different apologies to make up for what she had done. But not of them came out, because none of them even began to make up for the situation she put him in. You're supposed to take care of your best friends, not lead them into danger.

"I know," she sighed, still looking into her mug. "I cannot begin to apologize for getting you into that. If I had just paid more attention, if I had just listened to what my gut was telling me. I was the weak link, and he knew it."

"Apologize?" She looked up when she heard Mac's stunned question. "You don't need to apologize, I don't hold you response for any of this." Her relief was visible, and he felt warmed that she cared enough about him to blame herself. "Stella, he didn't go after you because he thought you were the weak link on the team. He went after you because he realized that you are the person I need the most."

Her eyes went wide with surprise and she slowly put her tea back down on the table. "Mac..."

Before she could go any further, he unclasped his still trembling hands and brought one up to her cheek, holding it firmly against her and brushing his thumb against her skin. "He realized that you are the one person I can't live without." She stared at him wordlessly, so he did what was the clear and logical thing to do; he kissed her.

Soft, gentle kisses on her lips, over her cheeks. He cupped her face, kissing both of her eyelids and across her hairline. Her fingers found his hair and curled into it. He felt her breath panting against his skin as he trailed down to her neck, and over her clavicle, now he was sure the shirt was his because he remembered the small tear in the collar, and he remembered giving it to her some night in his apartment because she complained about being cold.

He stopped, nuzzling the skin of her throat, pressing occasional kisses softly to it. "He didn't go after Flack or Danny, or even Peyton," he whispered, lifting his head to meet her eyes, still touching her face with his fingers. "He knew what you meant to me before I even realized it." He watched her eyes fill with tears. "I'm sorry." For what, he wasn't sure: for putting her in that position, for not knowing, for not telling her. He pulled her into him, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, and he played with a loose curl from her ponytail. "I love you," he whispered.

It felt like freedom, to finally have the words out in the open. Weight he didn't even realize he was carrying lifted from his shoulders. He felt light, happy even; Peyton could make him forget, for a while, but Stella could breathe life back into him. And he realized she was at looking him, with surprise, like she couldn't believe he had actually spoken the words. For a moment, he wondered if it had been a mistake, if he had gone too far, told her too much. But she started touching his face, and whispered "I love you, too" before her lips found his.

He couldn't believe that a day that had started so horribly, that embodied such pain and misery for so many people could have ever ended like this, with happiness and love. He never thought when he was tied to that chair that a few hours later, he'd be kissing Stella Bonasera. He knew that they would have to talk, but it was okay, because this was Stella, and that's how it worked. And as he clutched her shirt, resting his hand on the small of her back, he realized something: his hands weren't shaking anymore.

_And I draw a line  
To your heart today  
To your heart from mine  
A line to keep us safe'_

_All through the rising sun  
All through the circling years  
You were the only one  
Who could have brought me here - One Line by PJ Harvey_


End file.
